


this love came back to me.

by parischangedher



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 01:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21218495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parischangedher/pseuds/parischangedher
Summary: To Paris and back. Tony and Ziva in Jetlag and reuniting in S17.





	this love came back to me.

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Brief mention of Somalia

“Allons-y, ma chérie!” Tony exclaimed as he dropped their bags on the floor of the hotel room. 

It was classically Parisian, he thought as he took in the space. The suite was adorned with gold wallpaper and a small chandelier. On one end, there was a wide window above an inviting king-size bed, a desk, and a television. On the far side, where Ziva was currently sitting, was a matching sofa and armchair. They were the type that looked far more decorative than comfortable, complete with dark wooden frames and old fabric pulled taut.

“Où, mon petit pois?”

He grinned at the old moniker and raised his eyebrows playfully, stepping a bit closer and offering his arm. “You show me.”

Ziva laughed. “Tony, we have work to do. This is not a vacation.”

“We have nothing to do until tomorrow, Zee-vah. Come on, it’ll be fun.” He paused before continuing, his eyes meeting hers. “If it helps, I will give you complete control of our itinerary. We can avoid all the tourist spots.”

She considered his request more carefully, then. Whether it was the way he was staring at her, the fact that they were thousands of miles from home, or that they were in one of the most passionate cities in the world, she couldn’t tell. But, before her common sense could kick in, she smirked, stood and stepped closer to him, tilting to expose her neck suggestively as she always used to do.

Lowering her voice a few octaves, she thickened her accent and completed her assault on his personal space. “Complete control, huh?”

Tony’s smile fell for a split second as he subconsciously stood straighter, clearing his throat and quickly remembering what it was like to play with fire. 

“That is, uh, what I said.”

Ziva made a show of glancing down at his lips before meeting his eyes again and quickly backing away, her face and voice returning to normal. “Okay.”

She gathered her phone, badge, weapons and wallet while Tony remained still. With three words, he was transported back to four years ago, when he first met the only woman who could intimidate him, who could match him blow-for-blow without batting an eye. (Besides his mother and divorce lawyers, who don’t count.) 

Ziva turned back to face him and smirked, again.

“Tony,” she said, stepping closer and putting a hand on his cheek. “Are you ready?”

Her touch snapped him out of it. Smiling, he responded.

“Oui, mon Ziva. Après vous.”

+++ 

“You have to be kidding,” Tony exclaimed as he strolled down the cobblestone streets in the most under-rated parts of Paris with Ziva on his arm. 

They had spent the afternoon in a whole other world--one in which their normal boundaries seemed incredibly out-of-place. Investigating small shops, hidden bakeries and quintessential sights when they were off-duty built an atmosphere of intimacy. It encouraged personal conversation about everything from daydreams to childhoods.

Ziva smiled and playfully rolled her eyes. “I am not, Tony. We were a little too busy training to have the time for stuff like that.”

“That’s just, like...a sin,” he said. “It’s something you have to experience at least once. What if your kid wants to do it someday?”

It took everything in Ziva not to freeze at the question. Instead, she slowed and only allowed her smile to fade slightly. She knew it wasn’t his fault, not really. He was just making conversation. She was the one with the issues.

Sensing his mistake, Tony backed off and quickly changed the subject, asking questions about the best food she had in Paris and whether customs would allow him to bring it back to the States.

+++

Her jaw dropped when she exited the bathroom, her hair still wet from the shower and her body clothed in the lace pajamas she may or may not have packed on purpose. Just in case.

“What is all of this?” she asked, incredulous at the sight before her. 

The bed had been stripped of its blankets and pillows, which had been expertly relocated to the floor in front of the couch. Above it, a sheet lay draped neatly across the sofa and armchair. The lights were dimmed and a small stack of movies was on the end table.

“Over here,” Tony said as he poked his head out from under the sheet, flashing her one of his classic grins. 

Ziva smiled back, still confused and remaining still. “Tony, I--”

“Come on. I have a bribe,” he said as he held up a bottle of red wine.

She rolled her eyes but obliged, sliding onto the blankets and facing him. She pushed a stray curl behind her ear and looked at him expectantly. “Well?”

“Well,” he replied as he poured a generous amount before handing her the glass. “This way, we won’t fight about who gets the bed.”

"Tony,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “You and I both know we would not have fought over the bed.”

Tony laughed to himself and looked down, suddenly finding the pattern on his shorts very interesting. “Yeah.”

“So?”

“So,” he started again. “I just thought that, as your partner, I should make sure that you’re prepared for all scenarios.”

“Tony,” she said again, putting her hand over his and encouraging him to look at her. 

He finally met her eyes and smiled sheepishly. “Okay. Look, I’m sorry about what I said earlier. It didn’t come out right.”

“So...you built one of those pillow huts you were talking about to make it up to me?”

“Fort. A pillow fort. And...yes.” He searched her eyes before nervously continuing. “What do you think?”

Ziva smiled softly with a look in her eyes that was too scary for either to name. She was deeply touched: No one had ever done anything this thoughtful for her before.

“I think--” she started as she brought her hand up to cup his cheek. “--that it is a perfect introduction to the world of pillow forts.”

+++

Two hours later, with the movie over and the wine bottle emptied, Ziva lay flush against Tony’s side. His arm wrapped lightly around her waist as her head rested on his left shoulder.

"Do you want children, Tony?”

“I--” he started, absentmindedly running his hand down her arm. “I suppose, someday, it might be nice. Assuming I can do better than Senior, of course.”

"Of that I have no doubt.”

They stayed in comfortable silence for some time, enjoying the intimacy of the moment and the feeling of lowered walls.

“What about you?” he asked quietly.

She sighed. “I...I do not know. My life was, as you know, complicated, growing up. It still is. I do not think I would be the best example.”

“Ziva David,” Tony stated, tilting his head back a bit to look at her. “You would be an amazing example.”

She rolled her eyes and drew circles on his chest, avoiding eye contact. “That is sweet, Tony. But you and I both know it is not true.”

“You tell me a reason you think so, and I’ll shoot it down with a thousand to the contrary.”

“Well, until today I never experienced a pillow fort. You said yourself that it was an essential prerequisite to parenthood.”

“Ziva,” he said softly, moving his hand to her cheek and encouraging her to look at him.

She reluctantly met his eyes with misty ones of her own, immediately recognizing the same loving look that she gave him earlier. Of course he wouldn’t accept that deflection.

She contemplated changing the subject, as they usually did when things got too serious. But in that moment, in his arms in the middle of the night in Paris, she felt...safe. For the first time in a long time.

Or maybe it was just the damn fort.

“Tony,” she smiled sadly. “I was raised to be a killer. A spy, a heartless soldier. And for most of my life, that is what I was.”

“You are not heartless,” he replied. “Even if that was true at some point, it’s not anymore.”

“Maybe,” she said. “That part of me likely died in...in Somalia. But it does not change what I have done.”

“You can’t let your past--especially the parts that were influenced by being the daughter of Mossad’s director--control you now. You deserve better.”

Ziva scoffed. “Not according to some people.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

“Vance.”

“What did he say? He will regret it.”

“No, Tony. I do not want to visit you in jail.” 

She hesitated before continuing. She had not voiced this to anyone, and she still wasn’t quite sure that she should--especially to him. 

When the hood had been lifted, she suddenly realized that she truly could not live without him. Although the rational part of her knew that he felt the same--he told her himself, after all--she was scared to do or say anything that might make him think less of her, or treat her differently. Or not want her anymore.

But, studying his face--full of raw emotion, safety and something that looked a lot like unconditional love--somehow made her brave.

“When I returned--when you brought me back,” she said slowly, heart pounding in her ears. “He said that I was damaged goods. He was not wrong.”

“Screw him,” he said immediately with fire in his eyes. “You are not.”

“I am, though, Tony. Even if you do not count anything I did while working with Mossad,” she said, her voice shaking. “Being in Somalia...what Saleem did...hurt. He and his men...they left their mark.”

She looked at him again, this time letting a stray tear escape. He wiped it away and interlaced his fingers with hers, kissing the top of her hand.

“I’m so sorry, Ziva.”

"I know.”

His watery eyes bore into hers, desperately trying to send all the love he had for her into her soul. 

“But, even that does not make you broken. You’re not...damaged goods.”

She shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment. His heart ached as he saw the internal battle raging in her.

“You trust me, right?” Tony asked softly.

“Of course I do.”

“Look at me.”

When she finally did, he continued.

“You’re the strongest person I know, Ziva. You have gone through unimaginable horrors and made it through the other side. That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you a survivor, and for that reason alone, you will make an excellent mother someday.”

Ziva nodded, not yet trusting herself to speak as a few more tears slipped down her face. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, Tony,” she said quietly as she settled back against him. He gently rubbed her back and kissed her hairline, hoping he alleviated at least a little bit of her self-doubt. They stayed like that, talking softly and enjoying the embrace, until sleep eventually claimed them both.

+++

“Just put it on the counter, Tali,” Tony instructed as he unlocked their apartment door and stepped inside.

“Okay, Abba,” she said as she placed a grocery bag in the kitchen and rummaged through its contents. “Can we watch a movie tonight?”

Tony chuckled and rubbed a hand through her hair. “Are you kidding? Why did you think we bought extra ice cream?!”

After they finished putting the food away, Tali and Tony walked into the living room, the latter frowning at the sight before him. Pillows, blankets and comforters were piled haphazardly on the floor in front of their sofa, and their spare sheet was draped awkwardly across it and two kitchen chairs.

“Tali, how many times do I have to tell you to please clean up after you’re done playing?” 

“I didn’t do it!”

“Tali,” he said sternly, about to chastise her for lying, when she ran to her room and shut the door. He turned to follow when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“She is right, you know,” Ziva said, crawling out from under the sheet with a shy smile on her face.

Tony’s jaw dropped at the sound. He turned to finally see his love, standing in front of him, in his apartment, alive.

“Ziva.”

“Hello, Tony,” she said. “I am sorry. I meant to be finished before you came back. But, I have never actually made one of these before. It is much harder than it looks.”

Tony smiled with misty eyes and stepped closer, immediately wrapping his arms around her waist. Ziva’s smile grew wider as she put her hands around his neck, basking in his presence. His face looked a bit older, his hair a bit grayer, his eyes a bit wiser--but he still radiated calmness, safety and love, much to her relief.

“It’s really over?”

She nodded.

“Are you okay?”

“I will be.”

He pulled her flush against him and touched his forehead with hers, tightening his grip to make sure she was actually real. She slowly looked down at his lips and then back up to his eyes, leaning in a bit--a silent, hesitant question. It was one that Tony answered immediately when he gently cupped her jaw and met her halfway. 

Unlike their goodbye kiss, their heated ones in Israel, and their time undercover, this embrace was slow and strong. Tony’s tongue begged for entry, which Ziva happily granted. He cradled her head in his hand and deepened the kiss, never wanting to let go; her skin burned under his touch. She moaned quietly when he moved from her lips to her neck, briefly sucking on her pulse point before reclaiming her mouth. Ziva ran her hands under his shirt and up his back, causing a shiver down his spine. They spent several minutes reacquainting themselves with each other, reveling in the moment until she eventually broke away.

“Now that is a hello,” she said, breathing hard.

Tony chuckled and ran a hand through her curls. “Well, we have a lot of making up to do.”

“I know. And, we have a lot to discuss,” she replied, avoiding eye contact as fear started to rise. “Despite that lovely greeting, I do not want to presume anything, Tony.”

“Hey,” he said warmly, gently stroking her cheek and leaning in close. “We will talk. About everything. But right now, I am just happy to see you. I’m still not sure this isn’t a dream.”

She smiled weakly but it didn’t reach her eyes. 

“Ziva...It might take time--and a lot of work. But, I will do whatever it takes to make us okay. There is absolutely no way I’m losing you again. I promise.” He paused briefly before continuing. “I don’t have a choice, really. I can’t live without you. I tried. I couldn’t.”

“And I you.” She met his eyes, then, with watery ones of her own. She put her hands on his shoulders. “I am not sure what I did to deserve you.”

“See? We’re on the same page already,” he said, eyes twinkling. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

Ziva chuckled and cupped his jaw. 

“Shall we let her know she's off the hook?”

"I suppose,” she said, her anxiety rising again. “Does she remember anything?”

“It’s hard to tell. But, no matter what, she knows all about how strong her mother is, and how much she is loved. I made sure of that. I even taught her--and myself--a little Hebrew.”

Ziva smiled and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Tony. Now, I know that I do not deserve you.”

“Cut that out,” he said with a playful glint in his eye. “Or I’ll make you stay in that fort until you do.”

“Is that a promise?" she asked, glancing quickly down at his mouth again.

Tony smirked, raising his eyebrows and thoroughly enjoying the first flirtatious moment they’ve had in years. There was still a lot to discuss, feelings to express and questions to ask. But, for now, with her in his arms, everything was perfectly aligned. They stayed like that for a few moments until Tali came bounding out of her room, evidently tired of waiting for her father.

Ziva froze as she took in the sight of her daughter up-close for the first time in three years. She was even more beautiful than she was before, if that was possible, with all the best parts of her and Tony. Her heart ached for the missed time, and it pounded as everything she had been working for was finally happening. This was it.

“Tali,” Tony said, breaking away from Ziva to meet her at the entrance. He took her small hands gently in his. “Listen, I’m sorry I yelled at you before. I know you didn’t make a mess.”

Tali grinned. “I forgive you.”

"Good,” he laughed. “And, honey...there is someone here who would really like to see you. Is that ok?” She nodded but looked at him curiously as he stepped aside and gestured to Ziva.

She made eye contact with her mother and studied her carefully, as only the daughter of a trained spy could. Ziva smiled softly and stood still, not wanting to spook her. Eventually, Tali recognized the necklace and instinctively raised a hand to clutch the one around her neck.

“Ima?” she asked hesitantly.

Ziva broke into a wide grin as she nodded, raising a hand to grasp the pendant. “Yes, Tali, it’s me.”

“Really?” she asked, her eyes bright with possibility despite the touch of disbelief.

“Yes, ahuva sheli. Bo Hena?” she asked, opening her arms and gesturing for her to come.

Tali grinned and ran into her mother’s arms. Ziva knelt down to meet her and hugged her tightly. Gently stroking her back, Ziva buried her face in her daughter’s hair and started to sob, finally able to release the breath she has been holding for three years.

“Why are you sad?” 

Ziva chuckled and pulled back a bit from Tali to look at her. “I am not sad, Tali. I am crying because I am happy. I am so, so happy to see you."

“I’m happy to see you too,” Tali said softly, reaching out a hand to carefully touch the pendant around Ziva’s neck, as if it was made of glass. It was a sharp contrast to the yanking of a toddler that she remembered.

If it was possible for a heart to explode with joy, it would have done so in that moment. Ziva wiped her face and couldn’t stop smiling.

“Is that for me, Ima?” Tali asked, eyes wide as she took in the mess in front of the sofa.

“Yes, Tali. Ken.”

Tali grinned and took Ziva’s hand, pulling her over to the fort. They ducked inside and Ziva waited as Tali took in the space. Tony watched from a distance with a wide smile, wanting to give them both the time they needed.

“Toda, Ima. I love it! Can I eat the ice cream in here after dinner?”

Ziva laughed. “I don’t see why not. But we should probably ask Abba, too.”

Tali grinned and stuck her little head out from under the blankets, just as Tony had done years ago. “Abba!” she yelled.

“Yes?” Tony replied.

“Can we eat the ice cream in here later?”

“Of course, kid.” 

Getting the answer she expected, Tali popped her head back under the sheet and turned to face Ziva.

“Ima?” she asked shyly, fiddling with a thread on the blanket as her previous smile faded. The novelty of her mother’s reappearance wore off and was replaced with questions that only Ziva could answer.

“What is it, tateleh?” Ziva asked nervously, trying to ignore all the dark possibilities that immediately sprung to mind.

Tali looked away, then--a move she must have inherited from her mother--and paused before answering.

“Why did you leave?”

“Well,” Ziva started, her pulse racing as she tried to find words that would make sense to her. “What did Abba tell you?”

“He said you had to do something very important.”

“That’s right,” she said. “There were some...bad people who were mad at me. So, I had to try to fix the problem and let you stay with your Abba for a while.”

Tali nodded in understanding beyond her years. “So you had to keep us safe?”

“Yes.”

Ziva saw the fear in her daughter’s eyes, which almost broke her heart. “Come here, Tali. Bo hena,” she said, holding her arms open.

She obeyed, snuggling against her mother and burying her face in her shirt. Ziva stroked her hair softly. “Everything is better now, Tali. You, and Abba, and I are all safe. It is over. And I am so, so sorry I had to leave you for so long. Please forgive me, ahuv sheli.”

Tali nodded into Ziva’s chest. “Where are you going now?” she asked apprehensively, tightening her grasp around her mother.

“I’m not going anywhere, Tali. Ani lo e’zov. I promise.”

Tali leaned back a bit, a heavy weight off her growing shoulders. She raised her hand to gently grasp the Star around her neck.

“You probably need this back then. Abba said it was yours.”

“Oh no,” Ziva replied, shaking her head with a soft smile. “It is yours now, Tali. It looks beautiful on you.”

She grinned, finally, and hugged Ziva again. “Toda, Ima. Ani ohev otach.”

“Ani ohev otach, tateleh.”

+++

After making dinner, eating ice cream and watching Frozen, Tony and Ziva had finally convinced Tali to sleep. It was strange, having their bedtime ritual joined by the missing link in their trio. But somehow, it was also as natural as ever. Tali reveled in spending the day with both of her parents, showing Ziva all of her drawings and talking endlessly about how much she liked Olaf. Ziva tried to let Tony take the lead, as he was the one who had been raising her for the past three years, and she didn’t want to intrude or usurp him. But he would have none of it, consistently telling Tali to ask her mother what she thought, encouraging their bonding and stepping back to let them begin to make up for all the lost time. They were stumbling blindly through this new reality, taking it one moment at a time--but they were doing it together, as partners, just as they always had.

They spent a few hours after putting Tali to bed enjoying each other’s company, not yet daring to breach any sensitive topics. Still, they were content, lounging with the television in the background. Tony’s feet were up on the coffee table as Ziva’s were folded under her; her head rested on his shoulder with his arm around her back.

When a half hour passed without a comment from Ziva, Tony turned slightly to sneak a glance. He smiled when he saw her nearing the brink of sleep.

“Hey,” he said, just loud enough to rouse her. Ziva blinked a few times and looked at him with sleepy eyes. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to his bedroom. Or, their bedroom. Maybe.

Ziva opened her mouth to object, as they had not yet discussed sleeping arrangements--among many other things. She did not want to disrupt his life more than she already had. The words died on her lips when she saw the intense, loving and determined look on his face.

She smiled back and obliged, following him into the room and graciously accepting his old Ohio State t-shirt to use as pajamas. 

They climbed into bed and reached for each other without hesitation. Turning to her side, Tony immediately followed and pressed up against her back. Draping a protective arm around her side, he pulled her close. That from any other man would have felt threatening, but after everything, Ziva had never felt more at home.

+++

Tony awoke to the feeling of loss. Realizing that the space beside him was cold and his bedside companion was missing, he sat up straight and tried to quell the rising panic.

He threw the sheets off, pulled on a t-shirt and opened his door, walking through the apartment until he saw a lamp on in the living room.

“There you are,” he said in relief as he walked to the entrance of the pillow fort.

Ziva smiled apologetically and reached out her hand. “I did not mean to worry you.”

Tony smiled back and climbed under the sheet with her. “You okay?”

“Not really.”

“Bad dream?”

“Something like that,” she said quietly. “We need to talk.”

“Now?”

“Yes. If you are able, of course,” she added hastily.

"Whatever you need, Ziva.”

She made eye contact with him then, letting him see the anxiety, fear and regret sketched all across her face. It looked like she’d been crying. He took her shaking hand in his strong one, waiting patiently for her to begin.

“I am so sorry, Tony.”

“I know,” he said, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. “I got your letters from Odette.”

“I thought as much, when you did not shoot me out earlier.”

“Throw you out. And I would never do that. No matter what.”

Ziva squeezed his hand. “Are you...are you angry?”

“No. Well, maybe a little bit.”

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Tony. What I did is almost unforgivable. You have every right to be furious.”

“Operative word being almost, Ziva,” he said softly, stroking her hand with his thumb. He paused for a moment before continuing. “I was angry, when I first found out about Tali. Of course I was. But that was also tangled up in confusion, denial, and grief. It’s hard to pick it all apart.”

“I am sorry about that too.”

“Hearing the news about your ‘death’...even though I had my doubts from the beginning...it almost killed me, Ziva. It probably would have, if it wasn’t for her.”

She nodded but said nothing, urging him to continue.

“I understand why you did it. I do. I know that once the threat began, you were trying to protect her, and that you believed the best way to do that was to keep a low profile and eventually use the attack to disappear.”

“But?”

“But,” he continued. “What I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me the moment you found out you were pregnant. Did you really think that little of me? That I wouldn’t want to know?”

His eyes bore into hers, exposing the pain and rawness that he had been suppressing since she broke into his apartment. She wiped a tear from her face and forced herself to respond. Not to run.

“Of course not, Tony. I knew you would have been perfect. Honestly,” she said sadly. “I do not think there is any reason in the world that could justify what I did. I will always regret it.”

“Try me.”

Taking a deep breath, she tried her best to explain her deeply flawed thought process.

“After you left Israel, Tony, I was not doing well. I thought that spending time there would help me heal, bring me closure. Help me put an end to everything I hated about myself. I was wrong.”

He said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

“Instead, it just made everything worse. I convinced myself that you--that everyone, really--would be better off without me. I thought that little of myself. Not you. When I found out I was pregnant, I did not know what to feel. There were days when I wasn’t even sure I would keep her. It was...a very dark time,” she admitted.

“I still deserved to know, Ziva,” he said, his voice breaking.

She put her hand on his cheek and felt his stubble underneath her fingers. She gave him a pleading look, one that begged him to understand what was not understandable and forgive what was nearly unforgivable.

“I know. And, I eventually figured that out too. Having her, holding her in my arms, allowed me to finally dig myself out of the dark hole I found myself in. It was then that I realized what a horrible mistake I made. But by then it was too late. The danger was already present. I simply could not risk it.”

“And then of course, once I heard of the pending attack, I knew that I had to disappear. There could be no doubt that I was dead, or they would have used Tali against me. They would have used you against me. So, I did the only thing I could do. I faked my death, and I sent Tali to the only person I could ever trust to protect her. And...you know the rest.”

“You didn’t have to do that, though. I could have helped protect you.”

“I know you could have. But I simply could not risk anything happening to you, Tony. Leaving Tali without both of her parents, or leaving myself without--without you. I just could not take that chance.”

He said nothing, still processing what she said. She waited patiently for as long as she could in vulnerable silence.

“Please say something, Tony.”

A tear escaped and traveled down his face as met her eyes. She padded it away and took his hands in hers.

“We really screwed this up, didn’t we,” he said.

“I suppose we did.”

“I am sorry too, you know.”

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”

“I shouldn’t have left you in Israel to wallow by yourself, Ziva. I should have stayed with you, if you didn’t want to return. Or at least made more of an effort to check in on you.”

“Tony,” she said sadly. “I did not want you to. And you had your whole life in DC.”

He laughed softly, running a hand through her hair. “That’s where you’re wrong, sweetcheeks. I left my life in Israel--I left you. And her, although I didn’t know it then.”

He paused before continuing, not wanting to stumble this next line. “At ha’or shel hachayim sheli, Ziva.” 

[You are the light of my life.]

Ziva smiled and leaned forward, kissing his cheek.

“So what now, Tony?”

“Now, I think we should really try to get some sleep.”

“Tony,” she said, clearly not quite finished with the conversation. “I need to know what it is you want.”

He studied her briefly before responding.

“Well, that depends. Do you promise not to run again?”

“Yes. Ani lo e’zov, Tony.”

[I won’t leave.]

“Good. Then...come here,” he instructed, rising and stepping out of the fort. Ziva did as he requested. He led her over to the bookcase and turned away to rummage through an old shoebox he kept at the top.

“I saw this when Tali and I first arrived in Paris,” he rambled as he continued, increasingly frantic. “And I knew it was a long-shot, probably a stupid idea, but I didn’t care, really. I just had this feeling that I--”

“Tony,” she said, exasperated. “Please answer me.”

“I will. Right...now,” he said with a wide smile as he finally found the object of his search.

He turned to face her with a wide grin on his face. “I never thought I’d have the chance to use this. Hoped. But I never thought it would actually happen.”

Ziva smiled softly, still a bit confused until he opened his hand to reveal a small velvet box.

Her jaw dropped when she realized his intentions. “You’ve had that all this time?”

“Yes.”

“Tony, I...I do not want you to do something impulsive, or feel a sense of obligation, or--”

“Ziva," he said, his eyebrows raised. “I promise you that I’m not, and I don’t. I got this because I knew that if I were to ever find you again, I wanted to be ready.”

She was silent for a moment, processing his response. “I...I do not know what to say right now,” she said, laughing softly to herself as her eyes started to grow misty.

“I’ll take that as my cue, then.”

Their hearts both raced as he lowered himself to one knee. 

"The past six years and, especially, the last three, have been the hardest of my life,” he started. “But, what they’ve taught me is simple. We’ve wasted so much time, and I don’t want to spend one more second without you. So...what I want--or, what I need, really--is you. Us. All the good parts and the bad parts, forever. If that’s, of course, what you want.”

Ziva smiled wide as she wiped her eyes. “That is the only thing I want.” 

He smiled back and stared deeply into her eyes, exposing his nervousness and vulnerability as he opened the box. He let out a shaky breath as he prepared for the most important question he’d ever have to ask. 

She saw the worry in his face and stretched out a hand to cradle his head, nodding in encouragement. “Ask me, Tony,” she said quietly.

With a new bout of courage, he gently took her hand. “I know we still have a lot to discuss and work through. I really wasn’t planning on springing this on you so fast after you got back. But, our timing has never been good anyway, I guess,” he chuckled to himself.

“None of that matters, though. The only thing that does is that I love you. I have for years. I am hopelessly, hopelessly in love with you. And I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I do. So...Ziva David, will you marry me? Titchatni iti?”

“Yes” she said immediately, grinning as the tears she had been holding back flowed freely down her face. “Yes, a million times over.”

He grinned like a kid on Christmas morning as he placed the ring on her finger. As soon as he did, she pulled him up to her and kissed him deeply. He returned the embrace and pulled her closer to him, marking the beginning of the rest of their lives.

“I love you too, you know,” she whispered when they finally broke apart. “I have for a long, long time.”

Tony smiled and stroked her cheek, both reveling in the happy silence for a few moments.

“Come here,” she said as she started to pull him away from the shelf and walked backwards toward the bedroom.

“Finally ready to sleep?” he asked lightheartedly, following her without hesitation. He’d follow her anywhere.

She smirked, tilting her head suggestively and shooting him a look that could set water on fire. “Not in the slightest.”

He grinned and bit the corner of his lip. “Good. Neither is your fiancé.”


End file.
